


I will watch the world burn without you

by Lilibet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Order 66, Possessive Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon angsts in a way only Qui-Gon can, Reunion Sex, Wall Sex, Yoda is smug af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: This grief was his master, for now, and he was at the mercy of its whims as it bit at him with such ferocity, he feared it would leave him an empty shell.Or: Qui-Gon sees Cody shoot Obi-Wan off the cliff on Utapau and thinks he's dead. Cue lots of angst and then reunion sex.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

  
It wasn’t the force, a mysterious and enigmatic entity even to the trained eye, that warned him. It wasn’t his own intuition either, on which he had long prided himself. Nor was it his strategic mind, the ability to read a situation and reason through all possible paths honed over years of negotiations in the service of peace.

Instead, it was chance.

A nebulous thing, one he had never trusted, for those who do must then abide by its results.

But in this split second between one breath and the next, Qui-Gon could believe that Lady Luck was laughing at his foolishness. For in the space between chaos and shape he knew what was going to happen with a prescience he could only wish for, just as clearly as he knew he could do nothing about it.

In this moment, Qui-Gon could believe that chance governed all.

It happened so slowly, as if giving Qui-Gon time to comprehend what he was seeing, the moment carrying on for longer than should have been possible. There was no sound, no movement, nothing but the dawning realisation that he was about to lose the one most dear to him.

Frozen in abject horror, he watched as Cody signalled an AT-TE cannon to fire at Obi-Wan. The deafening boom reverberated through his bones and up into his chest, shaking loose the very foundations of him. The single bolt hurtled towards Obi-Wan and crashed into the mountainside, shattering rock and shale into slithers as sharp as glass. Ice gripped his heart and froze the breath in his lungs as Obi-Wan plummeted through the air towards the pools of water and jagged rocks waiting below-

And suddenly, everything came rushing back at once, as if compensating for that one long stretch of time; the screech of a varactyl slicing through the air, the bark of orders echoing through the hangar, the burnt ozone smell of blaster fire in his nose. It filled his head, all coalescing into a deafening and dizzying buzz he could barely think around.

And through all of this, the force remained eerily silent.  
  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan had waited in darkness, a silent spectre silhouetted against the sandy bed of the rock pool, until the sound of battle had receded. With a final glance at Boga laying still against the bedrock, Obi-Wan had hauled himself out of the cool water and taken a moment to mourn the loss of life, sending a wisp of thankfulness at the unexpected sacrifice out into the force.

Now off Utapau and on his way to rendezvous with Master Yoda, and force he hoped with all his soul that Qui-Gon would be there too, Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands. He’d seen no sign of Qui-Gon during his escape through the city, and he hoped that no news was good news. As resourceful and crafty as he knew the Jedi Master to be, when it came to matters of the heart, they were both as guilty as the other for making foolish decisions.

Obi-Wan blew out a breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. He sorely needed to wash up, his hair full of salt and his robes still damp and none too ripe smelling.

Leaning back, Obi-Wan spent the rest of his journey through hyperspace watching the stars flicker and glimmer like the scattered embers of a dying fire, illuminating the inky black tapestry of the universe.  
  


* * *

  
It had pained him, far more than one could have imagined, to leave Utapau without Obi-Wan. Not even knowing if the man was alive. But they had promised each other, back when their relationship was taking its first fledgling steps, that their attachment would not interfere with their duty. They were Jedi, first and foremost.

But while their bodies belonged to the Order, their hearts belonged to each other, and underneath all the Jedi training and bonds of duty, they were only men.

Leaving Obi-Wan behind had left Qui-Gon raw, like an exposed nerve, reacting at the slightest provocation. He knows he needs to get a handle on his emotions, knows he’s practically pouring grief into the force like a waterfall, but control slipped through his fingers like silk. If that didn’t make his emotional state obvious, then his visceral outburst at the revelation of the betrayal and imminent genocide of the Jedi had made it plain to Master Yoda. And while the disapproving expression on the green trolls wrinkled face didn’t serve to improve his fragile state, he was eternally grateful that the Grandmaster dutifully avoided mentioning it. Although there was a glint of something akin to...pity, in his eyes.

Later, alone in the darkness of his room, Qui-Gon let the full force of his grief wash over him like a sucker punch to the gut. An awful hollowness filled him, numbness pounded his brain, tears flowed from his eyes, and waves of wretchedness threatened to engulf him mind, body and soul.

His legs buckled, knees sinking to the hard, unforgiving floor and he wrapped his arms around himself and sobbed.

He thought he knew what grief was, after Xanatos, after Tahl, but that was nothing compared to this. This was emptiness in his heart, a sheer nothingness that took over and held his soul, threatening to kill him entirely. This was a heavy feeling like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do to get out from under it. This was like a hole had been carved into his heart in the shape of Obi-Wan.

It came in waves, threatening to consume him entirely while he knelt in the middle of this room, in the middle of this ship, in the middle of this sith-damned universe.

This grief was his master, for now, and he was at the mercy of its whims as it bit at him with such ferocity, he feared it would leave him an empty shell.  
  


* * *

  
Master Yoda wasn’t telling him something.

It wasn’t often that Obi-Wan could read what was going through Yoda’s mind, if at all, but the Jedi Master was definitely smug about something. Although what he could be smug about right now, Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom.

He sighed, rubbing his brow. He felt heavy, like the ship’s artificial gravity had malfunctioned and was intent on dragging him to the ground. All he wanted was to get out of his robes and into a shower.

And Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan had carefully asked after him, but Yoda had simply told him to go rest, that smugness that Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom glinting in his eyes.

In the end, he needn’t have bothered asking.

Walking into his room, Obi-Wan froze at the sight of a hunched form kneeling on the floor in the dark. He’d recognise that hair anywhere.

“Qui-Gon...?”

Silence. His heart hammered in his chest as the seconds dragged on.

And then Qui-Gon’s head whipped around so fast Obi-Wan mentally winced in sympathy. Qui-Gon stood slowly, his movements jerky and stiff, as if he’d been on the floor for longer than was wise, his usual gracefulness absent.

Obi-Wan stared at him, eyes flickering over his body before settling on his face. He looked haunted, his cheeks wet and eyes hollow and red-rimmed as he stared at Obi-Wan in barely concealed shock. Even stood up he was still slightly hunched, as if he too felt the heaviness that had made its home upon Obi-Wan’s shoulders and refused to budge.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, staring at each other in the silence of the dark room, only the hum of the ship’s engines in the background.

Qui-Gon croaked out an uncertain, “Obi-Wan?”, his voice hoarse, and then all at once they were moving. He didn’t know who moved first, but it didn’t matter because Qui-Gon’s arms were around his waist and his hands were in Qui-Gon’s hair and then they were kissing, desperate open-mouthed kisses that obliterated every thought in Obi-Wan’s mind as the breath was stolen from his lungs. They melted into each other and someone groaned, a deep guttural sound that reverberated in the space between them, and then Qui-Gon was planting hard, frantic kisses along Obi-Wan’s jaw and down the tense line of his throat. Obi-Wan tugged the hair tangled in his fingers, relishing in Qui-Gon’s gasp against his skin, and brought their mouths back together, unwilling to release him just yet.

Gradually, the kisses softened and slowed, comforting in a way that words could never be. Qui-Gon tentatively cupped Obi-Wan’s face between his palms, the calluses on his skin rasping over Obi-Wan’s beard, and the moment was perfect in its imperfection.

Exclamations of _I love you, I thought I’d lost you, never again_ were murmured back and forth in the space between them, and in the end it didn’t matter who said them, only that they were said.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone for reunion smut? :eyes:


	2. Chapter 2

Pressing his forehead to Qui-Gon’s, looking into his eyes, Obi-Wan feels the tight ball in his chest loosen. Qui-Gon’s hands curve gently around his jaw, safe, and he can tell from the way they tremble how much Qui-Gon wants to touch him.

“Touch me,” Obi-Wan breathes, dragging them backwards so they stumble up against the nearest wall. “It’s okay, Qui-Gon.”

Something breaks in Qui-Gon and he groans, pressing his thigh between Obi-Wan’s legs and taking his mouth in long, drugging kisses. Obi-Wan guides Qui-Gon’s fingers between skin and fabric, subtle presses telling him he’s okay, he’s uninjured, he’s here.

Qui-Gon seems to realise what he’s saying and starts pulling at Obi-Wan’s robes, suddenly desperate to get to the soft skin underneath. Obi-Wan goes to undo Qui-Gon’s as well but Qui-Gon moves to kiss down his throat to his collarbones, which is far too distracting for Obi-Wan to cope with, fingers fumbling with Qui-Gon’s clothes and only getting as far as revealing his chest. Qui-Gon is much more successful and Obi-Wan’s robes are parted down the middle and his trousers undone. Obi-Wan whines in frustration, pulling futilely at Qui-Gon’s clothes, grinding down against the leg between his thighs.

Qui-Gon pulls back, gently hushing him, and reverently trails his fingers down from Obi-Wan’s collarbones to his hips at a torturously slow pace, thumb skimming over Obi-Wan’s hipbone until a burst of pleasure sparks up his spine when Qui-Gon’s hand delves into his pants.

Obi-Wan lets out a ragged gasp, fingers digging into the wall behind him and Qui-Gon growls his name like it’s been pulled from the very core of him, shocked and awed. Obi-Wan has always marvelled at Qui-Gon’s ability to say a thousand words in the two syllables of his name. Qui-Gon presses closer and rests his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, slowly stroking him.

He’s completely surrounded by Qui-Gon like this, above him and around him and everywhere all at once, and the way their lips are almost-but-not-quite touching, panting into each other’s mouths, only serves to make everything so much more intense.

He can feel how hard Qui-Gon is against his thigh, but he just keeps languidly stroking Obi-Wan. It’s so teasingly close to what he needs that he’s ready to beg for it, desperately thrusting forward into Qui-Gon’s hand, when suddenly Qui-Gon dives in for a fierce kiss and slides his hand out of Obi-Wan’s pants.

Obi-Wan’s not ashamed to say he whimpers at the loss, but then Qui-Gon’s smoothly sliding to his knees in front of him, wrestling his boots off and pulling his pants down to get his mouth on bare skin and _lick_ and Obi-Wan can only stare, stunned, and then everything blanks out for a moment as Qui-Gon parts his lips and swallows his cock down.

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan groans, head thudding against the wall, chest heaving. He feels so utterly filthy, still half dressed, his robes hanging open and slipping off one shoulder and his pants around his ankles as Qui-Gon eagerly takes him in again and again.

He pushes his hand into Qui-Gon’s hair, tangling his fingers into the soft strands, and scratches his nails across his scalp. The vibrating groan Obi-Wan receives makes him arch his back off the wall, pressing his cock into the back of Qui-Gon’s throat who just _sucks_ , hot and wet and intense. His legs are trembling so much he’s worried he’ll fall over but Qui-Gon just wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and pulls him further in, eyes intensely tracking Obi-Wan’s every movement in a way that never fails to drive him absolutely crazy. A sudden flash of heat pulses through him at the thought that he could just hold Qui-Gon here and use him and he would just take it like it was the best thing in the universe, because in Qui-Gon’s opinion, Obi-Wan was.

Heat begins to build and coalesce deep in Obi-Wan’s gut far too quickly and he scrabbles to pull Qui-Gon off his cock. He doesn’t want to come yet, he wants Qui-Gon to be inside him when he does.

He tells the man as much, who looks as though he’s about to combust, before he pulls him in for an open-mouthed kiss, licking into Qui-Gon’s mouth and tasting himself on his tongue. Qui-Gon crowds him into the wall, rubbing his still-clothed cock against the jut of Obi-Wan’s hip before reluctantly pulling back and growling at Obi-Wan to stay where he is while he moves across the room to grab lube from his pack.

When he turns around, he stops to drink in the sight of Obi-Wan breathing shallowly against the wall. He’s kicked his pants away and his hair is a mess from fingers running through it, his cheeks are red with a gorgeous flush that travels down his neck to his chest and he looks downright edible the way he’s leaning against the wall, exposed only for Qui-Gon’s eyes and he just wants to lick the sweat off of him. His lips are a delectable shade of red, wet from all their kisses, and a ripple of want shivers through him.

He stalks back towards Obi-Wan like a predator hunting prey, eyes intent, and takes his chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling Obi-Wan’s face up so he can kiss him thoroughly. When he pulls back so their lips are barely touching, Obi-Wan looks up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils blown and dazed like he’s lost in Qui-Gon completely.

“Turn around,” Qui-Gon murmurs, his voice rough-edged and wrecked, and Obi-Wan breathlessly obeys.

Qui-Gon presses soft kisses against the back of Obi-Wan’s exposed shoulder, slowly pulling the robe away and reverently kissing across his back as more pale skin is exposed, until it falls away entirely. He runs his nose across Obi-Wan’s shoulders and pushes his face into his neck, breathing in greedy lungfuls of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan jerks when a wet finger presses against his ass and he moans and spreads his legs, curving his spine in a way that makes Qui-Gon want to shove at his robes and press as close as he can, to feel skin against skin.

His control is already hanging by a thread when Obi-Wan begs, “Please Qui-Gon, please...”, and he helplessly pants into Obi-Wan’s neck, biting and licking at the smooth skin as he pushes his finger in, greedy for his scent and taste.

Obi-Wan curses as Qui-Gon unerringly finds his prostate and he wails against the wall, desperately pushing back onto Qui-Gon’s fingers, unabashedly asking for more. He gets lost in the push and pull of Qui-Gon’s fingers, the pleasure washing over him in waves. The fingers of Qui-Gon’s other hand are gripping his hipbone hard enough to bruise, and _oh_ , Obi-Wan hopes it does. He wants to wear the marks of Qui-Gon’s need for as long as he can, so when looks in the mirror in the morning or when he discreetly presses against them through his clothes during the day, he will be reminded of the love the other man holds for him, of how desperately he is wanted.

“Qui-Gon, please,” Obi-Wan whimpers, brain addled and yearning for more, “I need you...”

Normally, Qui-Gon would take his time, relishing taking Obi-Wan apart piece by tantalising piece until he’s mindless and begging in frustration. But between his frayed nerves and the inherent fear of losing Obi-Wan in this war, Qui-Gon can barely spare a thought from needing to take Obi-Wan so wholly and completely he feels dizzy with it.

Obi-Wan’s world tilts as he is suddenly flipped around and hoisted up against the wall by his legs. His startled gasp is cut off by a passionate kiss from Qui-Gon, and he wraps his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, sinking into Qui-Gon’s hungry mouth. The ease by which Qui-Gon can manhandle him, effortlessly possessing him as if he’s a thing to be used, never fails to get Obi-Wan’s heart racing.

Qui-Gon goes to undo his pants and, fuck, he’s actually going to fuck Obi-Wan against the wall, right here, like he’s so desperate for it he can’t wait for anything else. Qui-Gon’s not even naked but that doesn’t seem to deter him and then Obi-Wan can feel the head of his cock against him, hot and hard and wet, and then he’s pushing up and sliding inside achingly slowly until he’s all the way in, and they’re both gasping into each other’s mouths, consumed by the desire that shudders through them both.

Obi-Wan clenches without meaning to and Qui-Gon groans, low and ridiculously hot, and every thrust is excruciating pleasure and Obi-Wan can do nothing but take it, be made to take it as Qui-Gon holds him there pinned against the wall having at him as hard as he likes, and Obi-Wan thinks he could die from the intensity.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon pulls them away from the wall and staggers to the chair across the room. Obi-Wan reaches down and grips Qui-Gon’s cock, dropping back down onto it in one smooth slide that makes him shiver.

Qui-Gon just stares at him in wonder until Obi-Wan takes Qui-Gon’s hands and slides them from where they’re resting on his thighs up to his hips. Obi-Wan starts rolling his hips in slow undulations that increase in tempo until they both settle into a delicious rhythm that has them breathing heavily in the quiet room.

Qui-Gon keeps making soft hitching sounds in his throat, hips jerking up slightly as if he’s trying to stop himself from moving but can’t quite do it. Obi-Wan leans back and rests his hands behind him on Qui-Gon’s still-clothed knees, sinking deep and grinding on every other thrust and before long he can feel his orgasm building.

Qui-Gon’s eyes are flickering over him as if he doesn’t know where to look but doesn’t want to miss anything, and Obi-Wan’s pleasure ratchets higher at the awestruck look on his face.

“I’m close,” Obi-Wan pants, his smooth rhythm faltering as he chases his release. He works his hips almost frantically, crying out in frustration when he just can’t quite get there. He needs a final push to tip him over the edge.

Reaching down, he goes to stroke himself but Qui-Gon catches his wrist. “No,” His voice is rough like gravel and Obi-Wan whimpers again, “You’ll come from my cock, and only my cock.”

Obi-Wan shudders in equal parts pleasure at Qui-Gon’s demand and frustration at how close he is to the edge. He leans forward, hands coming up to grip Qui-Gon’s shoulders, and licks filthily into his mouth, biting at his lip in retaliation. Qui-Gon hisses and Obi-Wan should probably feel bad except that Qui-Gon plants his feet further apart, holds Obi-Wan’s hips down and thrusts up into him hard and fast, hitting his prostate perfectly that it has Obi-Wan gasping a litany of _harder, faster, yes fuck, right there, please don’t stop,_ into Qui-Gon’s ear until he’s coming over Qui-Gon’s chest and stomach, pleasure washing over him in endless waves as he shakes and moans through his orgasm, no hope of staying quiet.

As the pleasure ebbs away, he feels blissed-out and relaxed, sprawled against Qui-Gon’s chest, happy to let the man do anything he wants to him. But all Qui-Gon does is sink into Obi-Wan again and again while he just lies there and takes it, face tucked into Qui-Gon’s neck and fingers curling lazily into his long hair.

Slowly, Qui-Gon’s thrusts turn jerky and haphazard as he nears his end, choked groans escaping his throat.

“Come on, Qui,” Obi-Wan pleads, stroking his fingers down Qui-Gon’s throat. “Come in me, make me feel it. Show me I’m yours.”

Qui-Gon doesn’t say anything, just hugs Obi-Wan to him and thrusts up one last time, coming long and hard, gasping an almost-sob into Obi-Wan’s ear and holding him tight as he shudders through his release.

After his hips stop hitching up into Obi-Wan, chasing the last sparks of pleasure, he eventually slides out. Obi-Wan is still sprawled on Qui-Gon’s chest, slowly circling his fingertip over Qui-Gon’s heart, feeling his every breath as they even out. Obi-Wan’s eyes have long since closed, and he feels himself start to drift off. It’s warm here in Qui-Gon’s arms, entwined together in the chair, and they’re both pleasantly sated. Content enough to drop off to sleep, he goes to speak, but Qui-Gon beats him to it.

“You are my sun, my moon, and all my stars, dear one.”

Obi-Wan breathes out a contented sigh, burrowing further into Qui-Gon’s arms. He tenderly strokes Qui-Gon’s mind with a wisp of the force and drifts to sleep with a smile on his face, finally safe in his lover’s arms.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> "You are my sun, my moon, and all my stars." - EE Cummings


End file.
